Well, This is a Little Weird
by hermy1092
Summary: Claire was just your average girl, home from college for the fall semester. It seems like she's got quite the boring three months lined up for her. That is, until she meets the mysterious Derek Hale. What secrets is he hiding? And why does he love her cookies so much? Little does Claire know, she's in for the ride of her life.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Claire sighed as she flopped on her childhood bed, and wished she were still back at college. It was the beginning of the fall semester, and unlike almost everybody else, she was not excited. Her freshman year had been perfect. After four years of mediocrity, and less than intelligent people, college was a godsend. Independence suited her well, she had decided during her first week there. After summer, she had felt so ready to go back, it hurt. Unfortunately, she was unable to get the loans she needed, and so she was at home, working for the semester. Unsurprisingly, Claire was not looking forward to three months of chores, a loud house, and her new job at the local department store.

Her school was only an hour away from her house, but it was a whole other world. A better world, in her humble opinion. After she had been dropped off at school with many kisses, hugs, and wishes of good luck, Claire had begun what she considered her adult life. College was fantastic. No curfew, hanging out with friends at odd hours of the night, the parties, and of course her first experiences with being thoroughly drunk. And although she didn't miss the homework and tests, she even enjoyed the feeling of being responsible for her schoolwork.

Now, after getting her hopes up about going back, she had three more months before she could immerse herself in her tiny world of bliss. After a summer of hanging out with friends, Claire felt bored already. She mused on all the possibilities of activities she could do. Reading? Didn't feel like sitting around. Working out? Ha! Didn't feel like moving _that_ much. Cooking? That sounded decent. Claire wasn't a particularly good cook, but she wasn't horrible either. At least she would get a good snack out of it. Getting out her laptop, she pulled up a website for recipes. On the front page was a recipe for 'Ooey Gooey Chocolate Chip Cookies.' Perfect.

As she walked purposefully out of her room, her mom stopped her in the hallway.

"Hey Claire Bear. Could you unload the dishwasher for me, please?"

One of the reasons she disliked being home. Was the request unreasonable? Absolutely not. If she was going to live in her parent's house, she knew she had to do her share of the chores. That still didn't mean she liked it.

"Sure," she grumbled, and headed for the kitchen

She quickly unloaded the dishwasher, and then eagerly started collecting the ingredients for her masterpiece.

Thirty minutes later she pulled them out of the oven, inhaling the delicious scent of magic and chocolate.

"VOILA!" she bellowed, quite pleased with herself.

Her mom bustled into the room, and looked at her creation.

"Let me know when they're cooled."

Claire narrowed her eyes. What a scoundrel. Of course wanted her cookies. This is how artists must feel, Claire mused. Used and unappreciated. Shrugging, she leaned over her cookies again, and started wafting the scent to her nose.

After her mom had stolen a cookie and a half, Claire looked out the window and decided a walk was in order. After her successful cookie heist, she was feeling much more energetic. She quickly packed up her cookies in a Tupperware container, and filled a thermos with milk.

After telling her mom she'd be home in a few hours, Claire set out through the woods, her bag of deliciousness on her shoulder. It didn't take long for her to zone out, and reflect on the memories of the past year.

She said she loved school because of her independence, but if she were being honest with herself she knew that wasn't completely true. Her parents still paid for most things. It was an illusion of independence. It was an illusion that her parents let her hold and carry on.

Bless them.

Lost in her thoughts and memories, an hour or two went by, and after a while she decided to sit down for a breather. After searching around the forest floor, she found a good log. She pulled out her baked goods and the book she had brought along. She was soon lost in the world of Khals, knights, and dragons.

Claire's eyes slowly rose from the page as the feeling of being watched crept up her spine. She scanned the trees for any sign of a person…or animal. She didn't want to think about that. The forest looked empty though. She was probably being paranoid. Just like when she used to run up the stairs at night because it felt like someone was behind her. Rolling her eyes at her ridiculousness, she turned to her bag to grab another cookie, and shrieked.

The fattest squirrel she had ever seen was staring at her, frozen, his paw stretched out as if to grab a cookie. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Suddenly, Claire burst out laughing. The squirrel jumped about three feet in the air, and scrambled up the nearest tree. That just made her laugh harder. The laughter wouldn't stop, and tears streamed down her face at the scene she had just witnessed. It looked like her instincts weren't so bad after all, even if she had over exaggerated the threat level. A girl has got to be on her guard. Self-defense 101.

After the interruption, Claire decided it was time to go back home. She knew the general direction of her house, however, there was no marked path, so she'd have to make her own. She doubted she could remember exactly the way she came. Squaring her shoulders, she set off.

She hadn't walked far, when all of a sudden she stepped into a clearing, and got a major shock. In front of her was a huge house. Long ago, it must have been beautiful. Now, it was in ruins. There must have been a fire years before. The tall walls stood charred, and the windows were broken. It was a perfect picture of abandonment and destruction. Whether Claire stared at the house for a minute or an hour, she didn't know.

She walked over to the house, the newly fallen leaves crunching under her feet, and stepped cautiously onto the porch to test the sturdiness. It seemed safe enough. Her curiosity rising, she grabbed the brass knob, and opened the front door. She heard herself inhale sharply. It was even more hauntingly beautiful on the inside. In the center of the foyer was a grand staircase and as she looked up she noticed an intricate chandelier, blackened and burnt.

Stealing herself, she walked further into the house and turned to her left. She stepped into what she supposed was once a sitting room. She could feel more than see that there was a lot of history in this room. It made her sad. Who had lived here? Had anyone died in the fire? Was the fire even an accident? As she looked around for any clues about the people who once inhabited the magnificent house, Claire noticed a good portion of the furniture was either smashed or broken. Probably teenagers. She began to slide her hand across one of the old side tables.

"What are you doing here?" an angry male voice yelled.

Claire screamed and shrunk away from the noise, her hands shooting up to cover her face. What a stupid reaction. She quickly removed her hands, and turned to face whoever was in the room with her. Standing in the foyer was a large man with dark features. She couldn't focus on any of this other features because the expression that he wore was absolutely murderous. Without thinking about the situation, or why this strange man would be in this dilapidated house, she started stammering.

"I-I-I'm sorry. I did-," she swallowed, "I didn't know you lived here. Sorry…sorry."

Her eyes were filling up with tears. The mixture of the adrenaline coursing through her veins, the mortification, and the pure fear at the expression he wore was distressing her greatly. Claire hurried toward the front door. She didn't want to know what he would do to her if she stayed any longer. As she passed by him, he sidestepped so that he was standing right in front of her, their bodies less than an inch apart. She took a step back and instinctively knew he was trying to intimidate her by getting so close. She looked down, frightened by the raw anger she had seen in his face. He grabbed her chin, roughly or gently, she couldn't say, and tilted her head up to meet his gaze. Some of the anger in his face had gone, surprisingly. He could probably tell she wasn't just some kid come to screw with the house. Even without the anger, though, he still looked extremely intense as he said, "Don't ever come back here again. Understand?"

Claire gave a miniscule nod, just ready to leave this horrid place, and he released her. Trying to hold on to what remaining dignity she had left, Claire forced herself to walk out of the house. Once she was off the porch, she began to run into the woods in the direction of home.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Umm…yeah that looks great," Claire lied to the customer who was currently trying on a tube top and leather pants. Why the store she worked at sold leather pants, she would never know. What she did know was that she was beyond ready to be done with her shift.

While driving home, she once again contemplated the encounter with the dark stranger. After she had gotten over her shock of the whole thing, and calmed down, she had tried to forget about everything. However, her jerk of a brain liked to frequently remind her that it didn't work that way, so she should stop trying.

After three days of trying to suppress the bad recollection, she had finally caved and let herself slip into the memory. For the past two days she had been constantly analyzing what happened. She was surprised at how much she could pick up on, now that she wasn't scared out of her mind. She had taken to calling the stranger "Bob" because she thought about him so much, and because "the stranger" just got old after a while. Bob was young. He couldn't have been much older than her. Twenty-five at the most. Why was such a young person living in a burned down house? Or was he even living there? She had face palmed herself when she realized he might have no claim over the house at all. She just assumed he owned the property because of the authority in which he had spoken with.

The more she questioned his ownership of the house, the angrier she got. He probably didn't even own the place! And if he did, why the heck was he still living there? It didn't make any sense, so Claire ruled it out.

How dare Bob yell at her like that! She was going to march up to that house and…

The more she thought about it, the more nervous she got. She had a habit of talking herself out of things, which was usually to her benefit. However, she couldn't shake the need to know more. Why was he so angry? Why, if he even did, would he live in a burned down house?

When she got home, she immediately went over to her computer and pulled up Google Maps. As she started searching the woods she had walked in for large, burned down houses (it couldn't be _that _difficult, right?), there was knock on her bedroom door. Her dear mother opened the door a crack and stuck her head through. Claire resisted the urge to laugh.

"Mom you look like a turtle."

She gasped, and mocked looking hurt.

"I am offended! _You_ look like a moose!"

Claire snorted.

Her mom let herself in and sat on her bed.

"How was work?"

"Boring, dull, monotonous. I could get the Thesaurus out if you wanted more words."

"Sounds like work. I had to deal with four screaming toddlers today. None of them wanted to lie down for a nap. It was infuriating."

Claire grimaced.

"You win."

That was one of the main reasons Claire disliked being at home. The children. Her mom basically ran a daycare in the house. Having a job at the department store sucked, but not as much as toddlers did. Oh sure, they could be cute. That is, until they turned demonic on your ass. She would much rather be at work during the period of time they were destroying the house.

"Oh, before I forget, someone dropped the Tupperware container off that _you_ lost on the front porch. I have no idea how anyone would know it was ours, but at least it's back," her mom smiled.

Claire had to school her features to hide the shock. She hadn't told her mother about the encounter. Too many questions would be asked, and she could live without those.

Her mom talked to her about her day for a few more minutes before going off to clear up the destruction that the children had left in their wake.

Immediately, Claire launched herself towards her computer, with a new fervor. He had brought the Tupperware container she had left in her haste to escape to the house! Not only had Bob figured out where she lived, he had actually come to her house just to drop off a container. _Shit just got real_.

After fifteen minutes of searching, she hit jackpot. It was right smack in the middle of the woods. Without thinking she began changing clothes. An old t-shirt and jeans were best. She needed to be comfortable if she was going to go traipsing, and possibly (probably, her brain reminded her) spying, in the woods.

Claire opened her closet and looked down. Shoes. This could be a dilemma. She needed something quiet, yet comfortable. She saw her old pair of moccasins and smiled. She'd feel like Pocahontas running through the woods in these. Well, perhaps, if Pocahontas had short, dirty blonde hair. She shook the silly thought from her head and pulled the comfy shoes on.

She stuck her head into the kitchen and told her mom she was going for a walk.

"Sounds good hon, just don't take any more of my Tupperware with you," she teased.

Claire rolled her eyes.

"I won't," she promised. A thought crossed her mind. "Hey, did the container have any cookies left in it when you found it?"

"No, it was empty. Why?"

_He ate my cookies_. She thought her mom was a cookie scoundrel. _Well, I hope he enjoyed them_, she thought bitterly.

"Just curious. Be back later."

Claire headed off in the direction of the house. She had to do this while she still had the nerve.

After about an hour of searching around for the clearing that she only knew the general location of, she finally found it. It looked the exact same as it had last week. She noticed the tire tracks on the dirt path that she assumed led to the road. So he had a car. She hadn't noticed last time, in her jumbled state. There was no car anywhere near the house. Bob wasn't home. Well, she'd just have to wait then. A part of her wanted to go back inside the house to search around, but the memory associated with that curiosity made her stay back.

Claire couldn't stay in the clearing. She could be seen too easily if he suddenly returned. So, she looked around, and found a good tree to climb. As she climbed higher into the tree, she was surprised she could still do it so easily. It brought back memories of childhood.

Once she was high enough to not be seen, she found a good place to relax. Sitting down with her back against the trunk, she began to hope that Bob would show up soon. Sitting in a tree all day with only her thoughts to keep her company would become very old, very quickly.

Claire leaned her head back against the tree and closed her eyes. If the car came back, she would hear it, she decided. She soon dozed off.

She was in the middle of a lovely dream involving Ryan Gosling and a puppy when she was pulled suddenly from her nap.

She had no clue what had woken her up, but she found herself looking into the blue-green eyes of Bob. She gave a start and instinctually grabbed the branch closest to her to keep from falling.

"Bob!" she exclaimed.

Bob was sitting on a branch next to her looking quite irritated. After the fear of her first meeting with him, she was quite pleased with herself that she was more able to keep her composure the second time around. He was quite an attractive guy. He had a strong jaw with black stubble to match his hair, a long and straight nose, high cheekbones, and lovely green eyes that were topped with thick eyebrows. Too bad those beautiful featured were marred with such awful expressions. Claire was pulled from her thoughts when he said, "I hope you weren't attempting to spy on me," his eyes flashed dangerously. "I distinctly remember telling you to never come back here. So I'll ask you again, and this time I want an honest answer. What are you doing here?"

_Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god._

"How did you find me?" she squeaked.

"I don't really think now is the time for you to be asking questions. _Why_ are you here?" his voice was hard, and she scrambled to come up with an answer.

"I…" she started, thinking frantically. "I wanted to thank you for bringing back the cookie container?" she lied feebly.

Although she knew she was in deep trouble, the thought about the container brought the questions that had led her here in the first place into her the front of her mind. Those questions made her angry. _Don't let him intimidate you_, she told herself. She set her features, and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Do you own this place? How do you know where I live? _Why_ did you eat my cookies?" she fired. The question about her cookies gave her courage. He could at least answer her that. Damn cookie thief.

The irritation in his eyes grew as she attempted to turn the tables on him.

"You're the one on _my_ property, hiding in a tree. Tell me what you're doing here, or things are going to get ugly."

For some reason, Claire knew it wasn't an empty threat. She also knew she would stand no chance against him. She was strong for her size, but he was a pretty big guy, and he looked like he worked out often.

She sighed, knowing she'd have to tell the truth.

"I honestly don't know. I'm pretty bored at home, so I don't have much to think about. You're pretty much the most exciting thing that's happened all week, so…I came to see if I could find anything out about why you lived in that house, or if you even did. My other option is television, which gets pretty old…" she trailed off.

Even to her, that sounded like the dumbest reason ever to being hiding in a tree on somebody's property, but she knew it was the truth.

He just stared at her, eyes narrowed, for a long time. She tried to keep eye contact with him for a while, but it got pretty awkward after about a minute, so she asked, "How were the cookies?"

Bob wasn't expecting that. He looked like he was thinking very hard about the question, before she got an answer.

"They were fine. And I was serious about you not coming here. It could be dangerous for you."

"Something tells me you weren't thinking about my safety when you told me that," she stated bluntly.

"Nevertheless, it's still not safe. You should go."

Claire looked at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out how serious he was. Finally, she gave a huff, and started climbing down the tree. As she began her descent, she realized just how ridiculous and creepy she must look, hanging out in a tree, just waiting for Bob to return. How embarrassing.

She heard the leaves crunch way down below, and looked to see that he had jumped from his spot on the tree. What the heck? Who could do that?

Bob could, apparently.

"By the way," she called down. "What's your name?"

"Derek Hale."

"Oh…hmmm…Derek," she said, testing it out. It was much different from "Bob."

"I'm Claire. Claire Dawson. Nice to meet you…well, it doesn't seem to be nice for you, but oh well. What can you do?"

As she got to the last few feet from the ground, she paused, trying to decide the best angle for jumping to the ground. All of a sudden, she felt strong hands around her waist, effortlessly carrying her to the forest floor. Claire smirked, liking the way his hands felt on her hips. But did she really look so helpless? Geez…

"Thanks," she said quickly. She brushed off the bark that had attached itself to her shirt.

Looking back up at him she stated, "I could have gotten down on my own, you know."

She didn't want anybody thinking she was some kind of damsel-in-distress. It had its uses at times, but she knew how to climb a tree. However, he didn't say anything, just looked at her with those anger filled eyes. Well, she'd had enough awkwardness to last her for the next couple of days.

"Well, guess I'll just being going then." She pointed her thumb behind her, laughed awkwardly, then turned around and started heading away from the man she knew would consume her thoughts for the next few days.

As soon as she was out of sight, she started repeatedly smacking herself in the forehead.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Claire hummed to herself as she pushed the grocery cart down the aisle. It had been three days since her last encounter with Derek Hale, and he had completely consumed her thoughts since. How could he not? He had a bad-boy appeal. It was irresistible. She wasn't afraid to admit it. Just to make matters worse, he was beyond gorgeous. Claire had come up with a large number of scenarios involving her and the well-muscled, pretty faced, leather jacket-wearing god of a man that was Derek. It was harmless, she told herself. She doubted she would be seeing him anytime soon, and especially not after the end of summer.

So, she spent the majority of her time daydreaming. She really had nothing better to do. The daydreams were like a poison, though. The more she thought about him, the more she wanted to see him. Having the knowledge of where he lived was not helping her self-control, either.

Her mom had sent her to the grocery store to pick up a few basic things. As usual, she found herself wandering the aisles well after she had gotten all of the needed items. She had stopped in the shampoo section for about fifteen minutes just to smell everything. Now, she was currently perusing the card section, reading ones that looked funny. Claire liked to be around others, but not with others. She couldn't explain why, that was just how she worked. The grocery store was one of her favorite places to go. She could people watch for a couple hours without anyone talking to her. It was perfect.

Inside though, Claire was waging a war with herself. The idea had popped into her head when she had passed the flour. It had grown in to a full-fledged plan somewhere around the time she was getting juice, and now she was trying to convince herself that it was a terrible idea. She would get caught. He would probably call the police or something! _But you get to see him again_, a tiny voice in her brain crooned seductively. She felt like there was a tiny angel and devil on her shoulders, whispering in her ears.

The tiny angel was about to win out, when she passed the book section with all the cheesy romance novels. On the covers were muscular men with scantily clad women touching their chests or abs.

_Screw it_.

She forcefully pushed her cart down the aisles, half angry with her self, half excited for what the implications of this could be. She would need sugar, flour, chocolate chips…

oOo

"Mom! Dad! Can you help me bring in the groceries?" she yelled through the door before heading to her trunk. She managed to fit six bags on one arm, and seven on the other. Yep, she was awesome. Her parents only had to carry two or three each because of her bag carrying skills. She smirked at her parents as they walked past her. Weaklings.

Once all the groceries were put away, she started gathering ingredients. A huge grin was plastered on her face as she worked. She was a bundle of nerves and excitement.

"Why are you grinning like a maniac?" her dad asked, while simultaneously trying to steal some cookie dough. She couldn't blame him. She'd had a couple spoonfuls herself. That didn't stop her from slapping his hand with the wooden spoon, though.

"Not yet. You can lick the bowl."

Her dad narrowed his eyes at her, and then mumbled something unintelligible. She thought she heard the words "just like your mother" somewhere in there.

"Still doesn't explain that Cheshire grin. You look like you're up to something. I know that look well. I raised your smelly butt," he teased.

"I'm just…making the cookies with love, Dad. Love for my dear family."

"Yeah, right," her dad laughed, before exiting the kitchen.

Soon, she was pulling them out of the oven, taking in the chocolaty aroma. Gosh, they smelled good. Once they had cooled, she put half on a plate and set them out on the counter, and half she wrapped in tinfoil. This time, Claire had thought ahead and made two batches, so her parents wouldn't complain that she was depriving them of deliciousness. Honestly, they were like children sometimes.

Before she left, she changed her clothes. Once again, jeans and a t-shirt seemed ideal. However, this time Claire made sure to wear the jeans that made her butt look good, and a more fitted t-shirt. Just in case. She quickly brushed her hair, and inspected herself in the mirror. Decent enough.

Claire had always been described as "adorable" and "cute," but never "hot" or "sexy," so she worked with what she had. It was pretty true anyway. She had a small frame with an average chest, and a cute butt. Her hair was cut right below her ears in a bob to frame her round face, and she only wore a little eyeliner and mascara to enhance her steely-blue eyes. She gave her cheeks a few good pinches to add color. People couldn't resist giving her what she wanted when she looked at them with her wide eyes, and she liked it that way. Sexy was overrated in her opinion. Other girls her age got hit on quite frequently because of their looks, but Claire had always invoked a sense of protection in people. She was very aware of the effect she had on people, and had definitely used it to her advantage more than once. Claire vaguely wondered if it had any effect on Derek…

She gave her hair one last fluff before heading out to the woods with her gift and the small note she had written. Claire had decided that actually talking to him wouldn't be the best idea at the moment. For one reason, he had told her never to come back, and for another reason, he was kind of scary. Easing into communication was her best shot, she reckoned. Her shot at what, she couldn't say.

oOo

As Claire neared the old burnt-down house, she realized that coming here today was a mistake. There were cop cars parked all around the house, and she noticed caution tape surrounding what looked to be a hole in the ground. As quickly and quietly as she could, Claire hid behind a tree.

As she watched, Claire saw a police officer walk out of the house, preceded by a very angry looking, handcuffed Derek. Not that she had seen many other expressions on his face, but he looked particularly pissed at the moment. The officer led him to the cop car. Just as he was about to duck into the backseat, he turned his head and looked at her. They made eye contact for the briefest second. His eyebrows shot up in a look that practically shouted "really?" before he was pushed into the vehicle.

Stunned by the fact that she was discovered, she pressed her back against the tree she had hidden behind, and tried to slow her racing heart. What had he done? This looked like a crime scene. She looked at the hole in the ground again, and wondered if he had hidden something in it. Money? A body? _Oh my god, what if I've been obsessing over a murderer?_

Claire was thoroughly freaked out. She was about to walk home, when she looked down at the tinfoil in her hands. What to do, what to do? Looking over at the tree she had climbed up the last time she had been here, she quickly made a decision. Claire climbed up the tree with ease, and settled the cookies and the note where she had taken her nap. She was about to climb down, when she noticed a blue Jeep pull into the clearing in front of the house, and two boys climbed out. She recognized the olive-skinned boy immediately. Scott McCall and his mom were friends of the family. Curious, she watched as the other boy she didn't recognize climbed into the police car with Derek.

Claire shifted her body weight a few inches, and the leaves in the tree rustled a bit. Scott immediately looked up at her hiding spot, and squinted his eyes. Being too far away, she couldn't hear his voice, but she saw his mouth move as he cocked his head to the side in confusion, and said what looked to be the word "Claire?" How did everyone keep finding her in her secret spots? It was infuriating! He couldn't have possibly heard her.

Thinking quickly, she shook her head at Scott, and put a finger to her lips. She climbed back down the tree as fast as she possibly could, looked at Scott one last time, and then hastily turned around in the direction of her house and started walking.


	4. Chapter 4

Claire's spying days were over. For one, she sucked at it. For two, the overwhelming urge to search Derek Hale's name on the internet was completely overshadowed by her apprehension at finding out what Derek Hale had done. She knew from the moment she met him that he was dangerous, but seeing him get arrested had driven the point home. If he turned out to be a murderer, Claire was sure she would be filled with dread for months from the knowledge of how close she could have been at becoming a victim. She was in alone in the woods with him, for Pete's sake!

As it turned out, she didn't have to do any searching to find out the unwanted information.

That night, Claire was washing dishes, and talking to her mom about their day.

"Did you hear about that crazy murder story in the news?" her mom asked, flipping through the television stations.

Her mind made the jump immediately. Her stomach did a little flip of apprehension in turn.

Claire swallowed, concentrating very hard on scrubbing a plate. "No. What happened?"

"Some guy here in Beacon Hills got arrested for murdering his sister. She was ripped in half, and he buried her in his yard. But, it turns out an animal did it, and he was let go. Creepy little guy. Lives in some burned down house in the woods. Why would you not tell somebody your sister was _ripped in half_ by an animal, and then bury her in your yard?"

Claire gave a noncommittal shrug and kept scrubbing. Her mom gave her an odd look. She imagined that her face must be some mixture of horror, disgust, and relief.

"I know. Pretty weird, huh?" she inquired, looking a little concerned.

"Yeah. That's crazy."

That night, Claire didn't fall asleep until well after midnight. When she finally did slip into unconsciousness, she dreamt of dark houses and dark eyes.

oOo

For the next two weeks, Claire immersed herself in work, and since that didn't take up a ton of her time, she started going to the gym. Being exhausted helped her to not think about "things," and a hot body couldn't hurt, right?

She was in the middle of her workout, doing squats, when a lovely female voice behind her said, "Stay more in your heels. It'll help."

Claire quickly racked the bar, and turned around, embarrassed.

There stood one of the prettiest girls she'd ever seen. She had to be around high school age. Seventeen, maybe. She was long and willowy, with dark curly brown hair and eyes to match. Her skin was a creamy white, which made her pink pouty lips stand out all the more. Claire immediately felt inadequate, but the friendly look on her face took some of the edge off.

"Uhhh...I'm still learning. I've watched a few videos on technique, but I guess it hasn't all gone through," she tapped her head and laughed awkwardly.

The girl smiled. "I thought you were doing great! You had your chest up, and your squats were below parallel and everything! I've just spent so long with my dad yelling, 'stay in your heels!' I know what to look for. I'm Allison, by the way." She held out her hand.

Claire knew she had just made a new friend.

"Claire," she smiled and shook her hand. She was surprised by Allison's firm grip. Her parents had taught her to always shake hands with a firm grip, but she knew from experience that most girls (and an alarming amount of guys) shook with a hand like a dead fish. She felt even more respect for Allison. This was a girl that you wouldn't want to mess with.

For the next half an hour, the girls worked on lifts, with Allison giving the occasional technique advice. Afterwards, they exchanged numbers, and promised to hang out sometime soon. It was good to know that she had made a new friend. All through high school, Claire was neither an outcast, nor a social hermit, but she was quiet most of the time, and not many of her few friends were in town for the summer. She was glad she could have some "girl time" apart from her mother.

After Claire was done working out, she once again headed to the grocery store. Her mom was making something for dinner that required particularly specific ingredients, and Claire wasn't one to complain if she got to spend an hour or so by herself at the store. Quickly swinging into a parking spot, she flipped down the visor and looked in the mirror. Her hair was wet with her sweat and was falling out of her hair tie. She tried to fix it, but to no avail. She would just have to look like a sweaty monster. Hopefully the public could handle it.

oOo

"Gluten-free pasta," she read off the list. "Who the hell eats gluten-free pasta?"

"I do!" snapped an old lady as she snatched a box from the shelf and zoomed away in her motorized buggy.

Shaking her head, she placed the pasta in the basket, and started pushing her buggy towards the end of the aisle.

That's when she saw him. He stood at the opposite end of the aisle, concentrating very hard at whatever was on the shelf.

Claire gave a very audible squeak, and turned her buggy around and into the next aisle so fast that Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift flashed before her eyes. People may have gotten hit. She wasn't sure. As she rushed down the aisle, her only goal was to get to the cash register as quickly as possible. Right before she could reach the end of the aisle though, a large hand sprinkled with black hair grabbed her cart, effectively stopping her. Without looking at him in the face, Claire dug her feet into the ground and started to push her cart with all her strength like a football player. Naturally, the cart didn't move.

"What the hell are you doing?" said that oh-so-familiar voice. It sounded almost entertained.

"Trying," she grunted as she struggled on, "to _grocery shop_."

She heard him snort.

"Funny way of grocery shopping. We need to talk."

Knowing the game was over, Claire stopped pushing the cart, huffed like a child, and finally looked up at his green eyes. She felt her stomach do a somersault. She knew he was dangerous, that's probably why he seemed so damn attractive, but she couldn't help but notice a look of desperation in his eyes that she had never seen on anybody before in her life. When Derek saw how she was analyzing him, he raised an eyebrow, and the look was gone. Now he just looked annoyed.

"What about?"

"Not here. Pay for your groceries and meet me in my car."

"In your car? I'm not sure if I feel comfor-"

Derek sighed and rolled his eyes. He was a little on the dramatic side, Claire thought.

"Well, get comfortable. We need to talk."

"You already said that, Mr. Bossy Pants," she mumbled to herself.

When she looked up, she knew he had heard her. The look he was giving her was murderous, and it took a lot of restraint on her part not to take a step back.

"I'll be outside."

Then he turned around on his heel and walked right out the store without another word to her. How rude! Claire could not believe this man could be so arrogant as to think that he could just tell her to meet him _in his car_, and expect her to just obey.

Fuck that! She wasn't going anywhere with that creep, no matter how hot he was. Nobody told Claire Dawson what to do! She felt so sassy, she almost started snapping a Z formation in the air.

It seemed as though with every item the cashier swiped and put into a bag, Claire's confidence drained a little more. After she had paid for her groceries, she nervously stepped outside with her bags. Her eyes darted around, looking for that familiar silhouette. She was about to step off of the curb and into the parking lot, when all of a sudden a shiny black Camaro screeched out in front of her. Claire let out a squeak. She really needed to stop doing that.

The dark window rolled down, and there he was. "Get in," he said leaning towards her from the driver's seat. Inside his fancy car, wearing his aviators and his leather jacket, he looked like the definition of cool. Claire found herself opening the door and sliding in without a thought. As she set her groceries in the floorboard, her brain kicked in.

_Wait, what are you doing Claire? Stop. Stop!_

Too late. They were already speeding out of the parking lot.

They turned onto the main road, and Derek punched the gas, sending Claire flying back into her seat.

"You are a very angry person!" Claire blurted, trying not to panic at the speed they were zipping around cars.

"Oh yeah?" Derek replied in the most sarcastic voice she had ever heard. Derek Hale truly was the rudest person she had ever met.

"Yes. You know, you should really work on that. Breathing techniques, visualization, I could show you if you'd like."

"No breathing techniques are going to help me. And you definitely couldn't."

He gave a short laugh after that, but there was no joy in it.

"Where are we going?" Claire tried to demand, but it just came out as a pathetically apprehensive question.

He didn't answer her as he sped on, and Claire gulped.

_Well, if I get murdered today, at least it will be by someone really hot_, she thought shallowly as he turned onto a small side road.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Derek and Claire stepped into a small coffee shop. Not just any small coffee shop, though. It was the most hipster place Claire had ever laid eyes on. There were dirty, old, very comfortable looking chairs, a sign boasting that the coffee was "locally grown and roasted," and she couldn't forget the corner in the back that had vinyls for sale in old (excuse me, _vintage_) crates. Claire smiled. She loved a good people-watching escapade, and she seemed to have struck gold on this tiny place. She had to admit, though, the place smelled great. Hipsters really knew how to make good coffee. Suddenly struck by inspiration, she turned to Derek.

"Did you want to check out the vinyls for your collection after we finish our coffee?" she smirked.

After the quiet, awkward, and much-too-fast car ride that Derek had taken her on, Claire was very much in the mocking spirit. If he wasn't going to talk to her, after explicitly stating that he wanted to talk to her, she had a right…no…a _moral obligation_ to be an asshole to this Derek Hale.

He rolled his eyes at her and walked up to the counter, his large frame and leather jacket looking out of place in the small store. Then again, looking out of place seemed to be the goal that most of the customers had when they got dressed this morning.

"Hi. What can I get for you guys?" said a tiny girl with bright red hair who looked much cooler than Claire could ever hope to be.

"Coffee, please," he said, and then turned to look at Claire expectantly.

"Same," she said, and started to get out her wallet, but Derek had already slid over a bill, and it was paid for. Well, that was unexpected.

After Claire had doctored her coffee to her liking (Derek had his black, _like his soul_, she snickered to herself), they found a place to sit. She couldn't help but feel like this was a date, and Derek was just very bad at asking people, so instead he just kidnapped them. That new revelation set her on edge. It turned out that she didn't have to worry, though, because a date had to have been the last thing on Derek's mind when he turned to her.

"We have a problem."

"I agree."

He looked confused at her agreement to his statement, but didn't say anything.

At his raised eyebrows, she decided to enlighten him.

"Your social skills need work."

Whatever he was expecting out of her, it wasn't that. She saw his eye twitch a little bit. As he continued to stare at her, she couldn't stop herself from explaining.

"I'm sorry, but it's the truth. You have barely said anything to me since we've met. I'm fairly certain you rely on your eyebrows to talk for you most of the time, and people just don't work like that."

He seemed to think about his words carefully before responding.

"In the company I kept for the past few years, we didn't have much use for words. Body language was enough most of the time. I'm sorry for confusing you."

"What kind of people were you hanging out with that you didn't have to speak?"

He smirked as if he was thinking about an inside joke. Claire couldn't help but stare at his lips when he did that. When he saw where her eyes were directed, he seemed to snap back to reality. He took a deep breath before looking her directly in the eyes.

"I know you like me, but nothing is going to happen between us, Claire. I need you to stop coming to my house."

Oh no. She wasn't expecting that. Her heart started beating faster and her face was very hot all of a sudden. Embarrassment flooded her whole body, and she looked down at her lap, suddenly more insecure than she'd ever felt in her entire life.

Then, she felt it. Her pride kicked in, and anger consumed her. Claire had to take a few breaths to keep herself from yelling. Still looking down at her lap, she addressed him.

"I didn't think anything was going to happen between us," she said in a soft, furious voice. "Especially not after I found out that you were a criminal, you arrogant prick. Not after I found out you were fucked up in the head. You buried your sister in your yard without telling anybody. Don't you think she deserved a prop-,"

"I would stop talking if I were you. That's none of your fucking business, nor will it ever be."

The venom in his voice caused her eyes shoot up to his. She thought she saw his eyes flash electric blue, but when she blinked, they were their normal forest green. She was so angry she must have been seeing things. Claire felt a twinge of regret at bringing up his sister, but not enough to quench the rage inside her.

"We're done here," he said, getting up out of his chair.

"You think?" she sneered. As they stormed out of the tiny shop she was suddenly aware of the eyes of the customers that followed them. Fucking hipsters.

Derek strode to his car, his long legs carrying him there much faster than Claire. She watched in astonishment as he went around to the passenger side, opened the door, set her groceries on the sidewalk by her feet, and then started to walk to the driver's side.

"Are you joking me right now? You're just going to take me to the next town over, and then leave me here?" Claire demanded. Derek stopped, and turned in her direction.

"No, I'm not fucking joking. Believe me when I say, you do not want to be close to me right now."

"Oh yeah, that's right I forgot, because I want to be _so close_ to you," Claire mocked, lifting her hand and flicking her wrist a couple of times towards the road. "Scurry along now, lover boy."

She had never before seen someone look so furious, but she couldn't have cared less at the moment because she was sure her expression matched his. As he got in his car and sped off, she got out her phone, and called the one person she could think of who she knew was in town, that was not her parents. As the phone rang, she took a few deep breaths to try to abate her anger. It didn't work She heard Scott pick up the phone, and sighed.

"Hey Scott, it's Claire Dawson. Do you think I could ask you for a big favor?"

"Sure, no problem. What is it?"

oOo

Twenty minutes later she was climbing into the blue jeep of Scott's best friend, whose name she had just found out was Stiles. As she struggled to fit into the backseat with her groceries, she was very aware of how smelly and gross she must look in her gym clothes. Had that happened today? Her workout seemed ages ago after the incident with Douchebag Derek. She tried to put him out of her mind, as Stiles started talking to her.

"You live in Beacon Hills, right? How did you get all the way over here with those?" he nodded toward her groceries.

"It's a long story, involving the biggest jerk on the planet," she spit out, suddenly furious at the thought of his stupid face.

"Jeez, Claire, never let me piss you off. Who is this guy?"

Claire suddenly remembered that the two of them were at Derek's house the day he was arrested. They knew him somehow.

"I think you guys know him. Maybe you can tell me why he's such an ass. Derek Hale?"

The car became suddenly silent and tense. Just when she was about to ask what was up, Scott broke the silence.

"What are you doing hanging out with him, Claire?" he demanded in a very brotherly voice. It was almost sweet.

"I wasn't 'hanging out' with him. We were just discussing something, and it got…a little heated."

"A little? He left you here! Look, you have to promise me not to see him again. He's bad news."

"Oh, you don't have to tell me that. If I never see him again, it will be too soon. Why are you so worried, though? What do you know about him?"

"Nothing," the boys replied in unison. Dirty liars.

As they dropped her off at her house, she still hadn't gotten anything out of them. There was something going on with them and Derek Hale, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

oOo

That night, she ran her and Derek's conversation over and over again in her head. The more she thought about it, the guiltier she felt. Of course he was an ass for implying that she was obsessed with him, and deserved to be told as much, but she genuinely felt bad for bringing up his sister. She didn't know if he was close with her or not, but that was dirty of Claire either way. After tossing around in her bed for hours, she finally got up at 3 AM, and took a sleeping pill.

Twenty minutes later she was sound asleep, Derek Hale far from her mind.


	6. Chapter 6

Authors Note: Hey guys, I'm the biggest doofus ever! When I first started writing this story, it began with Claire being home for the summer, but I realized that for the story-line to take place, it would have to be fall. So, I went back and made a slight change that says she has to stay home for the fall semester because of loan problems. If this is your first time reading this story, you won't notice, but for those who have been following along, I just wanted you to know. Thanks for all the love!

Chapter 6

Claire woke up the next day to find herself feeling groggy and missing a car. Balls. The sleeping pills certainly worked. After Claire had successfully rolled out of bed and threw on a hoodie, she headed down the stairs to find her mother making breakfast.

"Hi baby, come grab a plate," her mom chirped when she saw her stumble into the kitchen.

"You're…happy this morning," Claire observed.

"Yes, well, it's Saturday. Saturdays are happy days. You'll appreciate that more once you get into the working world. Now go eat your breakfast," she said as she thrust a plate into Claire's hands.

As Claire munched on her bacon, she decided to see if she could milk her mom's good mood.

"Hey mom, do you think you could drop me off at the grocery store? I left my car there yesterday."

Her mom turned around and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"What? If your car is at the grocery store, how did you get home yesterday? And speaking of that, why did it take you _four hours _to pick up some groceries?"

It took Claire about a half second to ponder if she should lie to her mom, and another half second to decide to tell her only half of the truth.

"I saw Scott and his friend at the grocery store, and we decided to go get some coffee at a cute little shop in Riverside. It was pretty nice. Anyways, we went in his friend's car, and afterwards they forgot that we met at the grocery store and just dropped me off at the house. I realized it when I got here, but I didn't want to make them drive all the way to the grocery store and back, so I didn't say anything."

Her mom just nodded her head at her long-winded reply.

"Oh. Well, your dad and I are going wine tasting this afternoon, so just wait until around noon-ish, and we'll drop you off on the way there."

"Thanks. And wine tasting? When did you and dad decide to become sophisticated? I'm impressed."

Her mom smirked. "Since you decided to run off to college, smartass. It turns out we have a lot of free time when we don't have to lecture you. By the way, how was Scott? I haven't seen him or Melissa in ages. She's had to work a lot of shifts at the hospital to just keep them afloat, you know. It's good that he got that job at the animal clinic to help out. Always was a great kid. You know, we should invite them to dinner sometime soon."

"Um…Scott seemed to be doing well. He did seem a bit more stressed than usual. I don't know what that's about though. School, maybe. And you totally should invite them to dinner. It'd be nice."

After Claire had finished her breakfast, she went through her routine of taking a shower (which cleared up most of the fog in her head) and putting a small amount of makeup on. Just as she was finishing up, she heard her mom yell up the stairs that they were about to leave. She grabbed her purse off of her dresser and bounded down the stairs, stopping at the last step to sit down and put on her shoes.

He dad walked into the room and gave her a smile and a wink. She smiled back. He opened the door, looked outside, and then turned to look at her in confusion.

"I thought you left your car at the grocery store?"

"I did. You guys are going to drop me off, right?"

"It doesn't look like we need to," he said, motioning towards the driveway. Claire finished tying her shoe, and then stood up to look out of the door. She gasped. There was her car, sitting prettily in the driveway.

"I don't understand," she said quietly.

Her dad looked outside at her car and then turned back to her. "Are you okay, honey? You're not…taking anything, are you?"

"No! Of course not. I mean, I took a sleeping pill last night because I couldn't fall asleep, but other than that, no."

She thought back over yesterday, and was sure that she did not drive her car home. The only person who knew she had left her car at the grocery store was her. And Derek Hale. The guilt she felt for her actions towards him multiplied tenfold when she realized he was the only who could have brought her car back. He may have left her at that coffee shop, but she did imply that he didn't care about his recently murdered sister.

Her dad was looking at her expectantly, but she couldn't come up with an explanation for the situation, so she just shrugged her shoulders.

"I have no clue who could have brought it back. Definitely wasn't me though. Or, if it was, my brain is making up hours of memories that are just not true."

Her dad looked at her strangely as her mom joined them in the foyer.

"Everybody ready to go?" she said, clapping her hands in front of her face.

"Uh, I'm not. Apparently, someone brought my car back."

"What? How? I thought - "

"We're going to be late honey, I'll explain in the car," her dad interjected. Claire smiled gratefully at him in thanks. He didn't return the sentiment. He opened the door for her mom and just as he was about to shut it behind himself, he turned and looked at her sternly. "You and I are going to sit down and talk about this when I get home. I don't feel comfortable with the situation."

"Sure, Dad."

Great. She was going to have to come up with something better than an 'I have no idea' in a few hours time. Her dad was a very logical person, and while that was what she usually loved about her father most (it countered her mother's emotional outbursts well), if his inquisition ever turned on her, she had better have a good explanation.

Claire trudged up the stairs, and sat down at her desk chair. Now what? She didn't have to work until Monday, so she had a whole weekend to fill with activities. Seeing as there was nothing fun to do in this God forsaken town, she decided to call her new friend.

"Hello?"

"Hey Allison, it's Claire…from the gym."

"Oh yeah! Hey! How are you?"

"Pretty good," she said, pacing her room. "I was thinking since it's the weekend, and there's not much to do, if you'd want to go to the bookstore and hang out?"

There was a slight pause, and then, "That actually sounds pretty amazing right now. I could desperately use some girl talk, right now."

"Exactly what I was thinking."

They worked out the details, and soon after they were picking up their coffees from the bookstore café and sitting down in squashy chairs. This placed smelled amazing. When they had first arrived, Claire had felt a little bit underdressed. Allison wore a fashionable skirt, a blazer, and some well-placed, expensive-looking accessories. Claire had just worn her usual v-neck t-shirt and jeans. Some people just liked fashion more than others, she supposed.

After they had gotten through all the awkward niceties, Claire asked Allison about what was going on with her. She had sounded like she could use an outlet on the phone. Maybe she could be a kind of mentor to Allison, like a slightly older big sister. Her first year college had taught her quite a bit about drinking, boys, and sex ('No regrets!' she mentally fist bumped herself), so maybe she could pass on some of the wisdom. Naturally, Allison's main concerns turned out to be about a boy.

"Oh my, a boy," she said in a southern belle's accent. "What's his name?"

"Scott. McCall. He's a really great guy."

"I know Scott! Our families are good friends. Wow, now that I think about it, you guys would be adorable together."

She looked down and blushed, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Thank you. I didn't realize that you knew him. Are you okay with hearing me talk about him? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I don't think you could make me uncomfortable if you tried. So, how has it gone so far?"

For the next hour or so, Claire listened to Allison talk about her budding relationship and her insecurities towards it all, with Claire giving the occasional input. She was surprised at how easily Allison opened up to her, but understood once she told her that she moved around a lot and didn't have anyone to talk to at school except a girl named Lydia, who sounded pretty horrid, in Claire's quickly formed opinion. It was nice to hear about someone else's life for a while. Without her friends around, she didn't have any drama to talk about with anyone, just the occasional phone call.

"So, tell me about your life. Do you have any special boys?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows. The girls laughed.

"No. I mean, not really. Maybe? Actually, no. Definitely not."

Allison started laughing. "I sense a really good story."

And so, Claire began…


	7. Chapter 7

"Oh my God, there's so much…_sexual tension_," Allison said quietly to Claire, a smile on her lips.

Claire laughed. "I mean, maybe on my part, but he certainly made it clear that he does not want me around."

Allison rolled her big brown eyes. "I don't believe it for one second. Actions speak louder than words, and trust me, there's sexual tension. So, are you going to tell me this mystery man's name?"

To be honest, Claire almost didn't want to tell Allison Derek's name. It felt nice to get the story off of her chest, but she felt that if she gave up his name, something of hers would be lost. But wasn't like there was anything there in the first place to lose, Claire reminded herself. She finally decided that since Allison was new in town, she probably would have never heard Derek Hale anyway.

"Derek," she said blushing.

Allison got a curious look on her face. Then, like a realization had just occurred, her eyes grew wide.

"Wait, wait, wait. You said he was tall, with black hair, and some stubble? Dangerous looking with a leather jacket, yeah?"

Oh no no no no no. Inwardly (and possibly outwardly), Claire cringed.

"Yeah…why? Do you know him?" Claire prayed that she didn't. She was seriously beginning to regret telling this story.

"He drove me home that night I told you about when Scott left me at the party! Derek Hale, right?"

Claire made a face.

"It _is_ him, isn't it?! You're right Claire, he is really good looking. But, you know, Scott doesn't seem to like him that much," Allison said, looking halfway between excited and concerned.

"I know. I got that impression from Scott as well, but it kind of makes sense. The guy certainly doesn't come off as friendly."

"That is true. You have to promise that you'll keep me updated," Allison smiled, a mischievous look on her face.

"Only if you keep me updated with you and your Mr. McCall."

"Deal. He's actually coming over to my house to study tomorrow after school, so hopefully I should have some news."

They grinned at each other.

oOo

Claire slowly turned the doorknob, trying to make as little noise as possible. She slipped her body in through the small crack she had made, and shut the door behind her just as quietly. She could hear her parents moving around in the kitchen, so she started to climb the staircase, putting her hands on the stairs to distribute her weight, and make less sound. When she had made it about halfway, her dad's face popped up in between the railings. Just the person she didn't want to see. Claire squeaked. She really needed to learn to control that. Her dad was like a freaking ninja.

"Heeey…Dad," she said awkwardly, giving him a half smile.

"Good to know you're back," he replied sarcastically. Lowering his voice, he pointed upstairs. "I'll be up in a few minutes to talk."

Claire just nodded, straightened up, and walked up the rest of the stairs. _Here we go_, she thought sullenly.

After sitting in her room, trying to come up with anything and failing miserably, her dad knocked quietly on her door and then came in. He sat down on the end of her bed and faced her.

"So. The truth, please."

Claire heaved a big sigh. She grimaced, and looked up at him.

"If I tell you, can you not tell Mom? I just don't want to have to answer all of her questions," she said, her blue eyes looking up at him hopefully.

"Why do you think I've kept this between ourselves so far? You're an adult, and I respect that, but I just want to make sure you're staying safe."

"I know, Dad. Okay, where do I start? Well, yesterday I was at the grocery store picking up the stuff for Mom, when I ran into this guy I met a few weeks ago. He asked if I wanted to go for coffee, and I said yes. After we got there we got into…an argument, and we were both really angry, so he left me there. I had to call-,"

"Wait, he just _left_ you there?" Her dad looked pissed. "Who the fuck is this guy?"

Ignoring the 'who' question, Claire went on. "Yeah I know, I was pretty angry, too. But I can take care of myself, so I called Scott McCall, and he and his friend came and picked me up. I forgot to tell them that my car was still at the grocery store, so they just dropped me off at the house. And you know the rest. My car was here this morning. Honestly, I think De-…the guy I went to coffee with brought it back."

Once she was done with her explanation, her dad looked at the ground and started rubbing his face scruff. It was his thinking pose. His silent analysis made her nervous. After about 15 seconds he finally looked up at her. "Okay. So, my question for you is, do you still have your car keys?"

Claire slowly nodded.

"So how did this guy get your car back to the house?"

"Well, I don't really know for sure, but it wouldn't surprise me if 'this guy' had…skills," she said vaguely.

"Skills?" her dad said, his eyebrows high.

"You know, like, hot-wiring skills."

God, she couldn't even look at her father right now. She heard him sigh.

"And he knows where you live?"

Instead of making her dad put everything on lock down, she decided on a little white lie for this question.

"Well, we've hung out before, and he came and picked me up."

"Are you romantically involved with this guy?"

She laughed to herself. "No. I don't think so."

He looked at her pointedly. "Good. He doesn't sound like someone I would want you to be with anyways. As cheesy as this sounds, just promise me you'll make good choices. I love you, honey. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"I promise, Dad. I love you, too."

He stood up. "Alright, I'm going to leave before this gets too mushy. Dinner's going to be ready in a half hour or so."

oOo

Claire woke up the next morning not ready to go to work. Still, she rolled out of bed and headed to the shower. After making herself smell nice (or at least not like she just rolled out of bed), she drank a cup of coffee, and trudged upstairs to get dressed.

When she walked into her room, she had to cover her mouth to keep from screaming. There in the middle of her bedroom stood Derek Hale, pale, sweaty, and swaying on the spot. Her whole body reacted, heart racing, body tensed.

He looked at her, his green eyes circled in darkness, and his eyebrows furrowed. "Claire? What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? Derek, this is my bedroom. What's going on? What wrong?" She quickly scanned him. That's when she noticed the blood dripping down his hand underneath his leather jacket. "Oh my God. You're hurt."

Claire walked over to him and gingerly lifted his hand to try to see what was wrong. He grimaced and pulled away.

"I have to – I have to find…" he trailed off, his unfocused eyes looking all around him, searching for something.

"You have to find what, Derek?" When he didn't answer, she decided to take action. She grabbed his unhurt arm, and gently led him to her desk chair. He sat down heavily when he felt the chair hit the back of his knees.

"Look, I'm going to go get the first aid kit. Take off your jacket, if you can. I'll be right back."

She rushed down the stairs, thankful that her dad had already left for work, and her mom was off running errands with the kids in tow. She grabbed a handful of dishtowels, filled a bowl with water, and found the first aid kit under the sink. She could feel her heart beating hard in her chest. She would have liked to say that her reaction was because of the fact that a grown man was bleeding in her house and needed medical attention, but if she were being honest with herself she knew that his presence was enough to set her heart racing. Damn him! _I thought he didn't want me around_, she thought bitterly. Setting her mind back on task, she carefully walked up the stairs as quickly as possible, trying not to spill any of the water she carried with her shaking hands.

She shouldered open her door, and looked around her room.

Derek was gone.

All that was left was an open window and a few drops of blood on the carpet.

"Derek?" she called out. There was no answer. She set down the items she had brought up and stuck her head outside her window. Everything looked as it should, no sign of Derek Hale anywhere. She stood up and stared straight ahead, heart still hammering, hands still shaking. Worry flooded her system. He didn't even know where he was, and now he was walking the streets, dazed and injured? But what could she do? He was gone, and she didn't even know which direction to start looking for him.

All of a sudden, her phone alarm went off, making her jump a foot in the air. She still had too much adrenaline in her system. The alarm was her cue to leave the house for work. What a trivial thing it seemed now, but what else could she do?

Claire climbed into her car, and drove to the department store, her mind thinking of nothing other than where Derek Hale could possibly be.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Claire woke up the next morning to her mom's voice asking her to run the vacuum before all of the children arrived. _Balls_. She looked up at her alarm clock and groaned when she saw the numbers 7:14 staring her in the eyes.

"Nooooooo," she moaned.

"Yes, ma'am. Up!"

Knowing her mom, she had been up and doing God-knows-what for hours, and had now decided that Claire had had enough sleep. She considered attempting to go back to sleep, but decided she would rather not be awoken again by pillow attack. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Claire sat up and blinked. The sun was filtering through her curtains, and she could hear birds singing outside in the trees. She wondered how Derek was doing.

After she had gotten off of her shift at work, still racked with anxiety, Claire had gone so far as to drive to his house. She had even forced herself to enter the dark rooms, softly calling out his name. It had been empty, of course. Just her luck. Without anything left to do, she had gone home and attempted to not think about any of it. Which, of course, was a miserable failure.

When she had seen the story of the murder at the video rental store on the news, her heart had jumped into her throat, until they stated the name. Claire felt guilty that her relief that the words 'Derek Hale' hadn't come out of the broadcasters mouth overshadowed her sadness for the poor man who had been killed.

Why did she care so much?

That was a question she would have to ponder later. Her mother's voice floated up the staircase, telling her to hurry before the children came. Honestly, what did it matter? They were going to make everything a mess again within 5 minutes of arrival. Sighing, Claire made her way down the stairs.

oOo

Two hours later, Claire found herself changing her third diaper of the morning. Damn poop machines. She kissed the freshly changed baby on the stomach and then the cheek, making him giggle loudly, and put him in his bouncer seat. He immediately began to smack the brightly colored buttons with glee. She had to get out soon, or she was going to suffocate in a pile of diapers and sticky fingers.

"I'm going to go take a shower!" she called to her mom, not bothering to listen for her answer before running up the stairs two at a time.

The once normal bathroom had now transformed itself into a beautiful sanctuary in her mind. After a long shower, she slowly put on her clothes, stretching out her alone time as much as possible. It was starting to get chilly outside, so she chose a pair of capri jeans, a nerdy t-shirt she knew her mom hated, and a pair of navy converse. Her hair went up into a half ponytail (since her short hair refused to go all the way up), and Claire was ready for the day. No make-up necessary.

She grabbed her keys and wallet, and ran down the stairs, trying to look as peppy and in motion as possible. The busier she looked, the less likely her mom was to ask her to change a diaper, or hold a screaming child. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she kept moving towards the front door and called out to her mom.

"Hey, I'm going to run some errands, be back in a bit!" she yelled, and not waiting for an answer, walked out the front door.

Claire sat in her car and was about to put the keys into the ignition when she realized she had no idea where she was going. There wasn't very much to do in her little town. As she thought through all the limited activities that Beacon Hills had to offer, a little treacherous piece of her brain offered up another idea. Maybe she could take a walk, and maybe go to a certain house to maybe check on a certain person. With a new pep in her step, she climbed out of her car, and headed down the familiar path (or rather, lack of one) into the woods.

She didn't know why she kept doing this to herself. Looking desperate was something she was always very careful to avoid, but here she was heading to Derek's house _once again_. In all reality though, her anxiousness to see him safe was the main factor that drove her through the forest. It wasn't desperation, it was concern. Right? Whatever it was, she couldn't seem to make her feet go in any other direction than towards the Hale house. Since when did she become so bad at controlling herself?

She was about a mile out from the house when she heard a _crunch! crunch! crunch!_ and stopped to listen. It sounded like someone was running. Fast. Not really sure what to do in this kind of situation, Claire did what she was becoming very accustomed to doing in these woods. She climbed a tree. From her new vantage point, she scanned the trees and brush down below to identify the source of the noise. It didn't take long before a familiar silhouette came into view. As he ran, his eyes locked onto hers, and she saw his already familiar frown deepen. Claire barely even noticed his facial expressions, though, because there was something very different about her mysterious Derek Hale.

_Why isn't he wearing a shirt? Oh my God, Claire, act cool. Sometimes hot people just don't like to wear shirts. Don't freak out. Totally normal. Control your heart rate._

"What the hell, Claire? What are you doing here? And what are you doing in a tree…again?" his voice called up to her, as he jogged up to the base of her not-so-great hiding spot.

"I've asked myself the same question. I don't really know. I guess I just like trees?" she said shakily, trying to keep her eyes trained on his face. "What are you doing? Just going for a run…in jeans?"

He looked up at her, and she smiled awkwardly. He looked more stressed out than usual. With a sigh, Derek began to climb the tree. He was very quick and graceful, and she couldn't help but watch the way his muscles moved under his skin. He really was a beautiful human being. She couldn't watch long though because soon he was level with her, each looking at each other with curious faces.

Then, Claire remembered.

Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed his left arm and turned it over, looking for a sign of injury. When she found none, a wave of relief washed over her, followed by one of confusion. She looked up to find her steely blue eyes mimicked by his own.

"How are you healed? Yesterday you were hurt. You were bleeding…"

"What do you mean? I never saw you yesterday," he said, and she once again caught that look of helplessness under his eternally angry eyes.

"You did. You were in my bedroom, and your arm was bleeding. I gotta admit, you were completely out of it. I thought you were about to pass out. When I went to get the first aid kit, you disappeared. I've got your blood on my carpet to prove it. It was a total bitch, trying to get it out, by the way. And now you're just…healed? I mean, there is literally nothing," she grabbed his arm again to inspect, "that even suggests you were ever hurt."

He watched her hands flip his arm back and forth for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Claire, I…I can't tell you what happened yesterday. I'm not saying it didn't happen, I just can't tell you what. It's dangerous, my life, and-and- you can't be involved. You _won't_ be involved." To Claire's ears, it seemed as though he were trying to convince himself more than her.

That's when she realized she was still holding onto his arm, feeling the contrast of hard muscle under smooth skin with a smattering of dark hair on top. Masculine was the only word her jumbled brain could think of to describe him at the moment. Something in her stomach told her to lean towards him, to be closer, to _smell_ him, but the logical part of her brain kept her back, even though it couldn't make her take her hands from him. Attraction would be such an inadequate term to convey what she felt for this man. She noticed he was still fixedly watching her long-fingered hands that were touching him. Her heart went from beating harder than usual, to giving one great big thump. As if he could hear her pulse, he abruptly looked up at her, and the moment was over. Claire quickly brought her hands back to her sides and blushed furiously.

"I promise I wasn't trying to come onto you. I know you don't want that. I just –I just wanted to make sure you were okay after yesterday."

"It's fine. I get it. There's definitely something here," he pointed between himself and Claire, "It's a stupid thing to ignore, but I can't act on it. Not the way I live. And…I want to apologize for leaving you the other day. My sister is a difficult subject for me." He seemed to go into his own head then, and a flash of rage crossed his features before returning to something more vulnerable as they sat up high in their tree. She had never heard him speak so many words before, and his confession had her heart racing. But she had to address his apology before she lost total control of her ability to speak.

"I know that now. I should have never brought it up in the first place. It was a cruel thing for me to do. So, I'm sorry, too."

There was an awkward silence before Derek spoke up, running a hand through his thick hair.

"Do you want me to walk you home?"

For the life of her, Claire could not remember a time when he had spoken so politely to her. It was a welcome change, and she nodded.

"Maybe we can find you a shirt. You never answered my question, by the way. Why _aren't_ you wearing a shirt?"

"Long story."

Aaaand non-responsive Derek was back.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

They finally reached Claire's house after a silent, but not uncomfortable walk through the woods. She stopped in her backyard, and chewed on her lip, thinking.

"What is it?" Derek asked, managing to look genuinely curious and arrogant at the same time. The man truly had the gift of condescension. Claire just sighed and shook her head before answering him.

"My mom is inside with a ton of children. I don't think she would take too kindly to a half naked man she may or may not remember seeing on the news for murder walking up the stairs to her daughter's bedroom." She said all of this while waving her hand around in the air as if it were obvious. Apparently, his condescension triggered her own.

He stared at her like he was deciding whether or not she could keep a secret, and then nodded.

"Go inside, and I'll meet you in your room."

"I appreciate the confidence, but there's really no way to get in my house without somebody seeing you."

She smiled to herself at the thought of finding him caught in a conversation with a toddler.

"Just go. I won't get caught."

Her eyebrow must have touched her hairline. God, he was cocky.

"Fine, but if my mom finds you, I'm not covering for your ass. Breaking and entering won't make your track record look any better, my friend," Claire said, before walking through the back door and closing it in his face.

Claire leaned up against the door and smirked. Slowly, her small smile spread into a huge grin and she laughed out loud. She was acutely aware of the blood pulsing through her veins and everything around her looked fuzzy. Adrenaline coursed through her, leaving her feeling giddy and somehow relaxed. So relaxed. She simultaneously wanted to scream and cuddle something soft. Her brain was so weird. Her mom came around the corner a moment later.

"What the heck are you laughing at?" she asked, looking concerned.

"I don't actually know. I just feel really, really good…ya know?"

It took her mother about ten seconds to reply, Claire grinning stupidly the entire time.

"Claire Dorothy Dawson are you high?!" she yelled, as she grabbed her daughter's face and looked closely at her eyes before giving her clothing a sniff. Claire laughed even harder.

"I'm not high, Mom. Promise."

Her mother's green eyes stared confusedly into her own blue ones before some kind of realization suddenly dawned on her face.

"You met a boy."

Claire immediately stopped laughing. Her mother could _not_ know about Derek. She tried to feign confidence and scoffed.

"No I didn-," she started to say, her voice cracking.

"Don't give me that. I know that look very well. You met a boy, and you've just been to see him."

Her mother looked quite pleased with herself. She seemed to fancy herself as some kind of Sherlock Holmes.

"I'm just going to…go to my room," Claire said as she shimmied her way past her.

"I expect details!" she said before cackling loudly. Her evil laugh was coming along nicely, Claire thought bitterly, rubbing the sweat from her palms onto her jeans as she neared the staircase.

She forced herself to walk slowly up the stairs. If Derek was already up there, she didn't want him to hear her running up the stairs like an idiot to see him. Which was probably pointless, considering she had been caught stalking him on multiple occasions.

Claire didn't give herself time to feel nervous. She pushed open the door and was greeted by the sight of a shirtless Derek Hale, once again sitting in her computer chair, looking more awkward than usual.

She cleared her throat, and spoke in a quiet voice. "You actually made it up here without getting caught. Call me impressed."

He just gave her that look that said 'of course I didn't get caught and of course you're impressed.' Claire rolled her eyes and walked over to her dresser, trying to think of a way to bring him down a notch. She smirked as she dug through her dresser, and finally found what she was looking for.

"How about…this?" she said as she pivoted with a lacy pink camisole in hand. She held it up to her chest and did a little shimmy.

He fixed her with a look that was a mixture of irritation, confusion, and…was that amusement she detected? Claire burst out laughing, and threw the shirt at his face, before turning to find something more suitable for Mr. Grumpy-Gills.

While she was digging for something a little bigger, she heard him clear his throat.

"You wouldn't happen to have some ruby slippers to go with that tank top, would you, _Dorothy_?" he asked, the smirk in his voice evident.

Claire spun around on her heel.

"You _heard that_?"

He almost smiled.

"Definitely did."

Rolling her eyes, she tossed him one of her oversized nightshirts, and felt a mixture of relief and disappointment when he slipped it over his head and pulled it down his long torso. He was too good-looking not to gawk at like an idiot, but she really did miss the nice view. Claire flopped herself onto her bed, and then rolled on her stomach to look at Derek. He was sitting in her chair, attempting to look relaxed, and failing miserably.

"You have no idea how many people have made that joke. That's why I usually try to keep my middle name a secret. But, let's not talk about me. Tell me about 'The Mysterious," she put her hands in front of her face and wiggled them, "Derek Hale," she grinned, feeling silly, but she didn't know much about this man, and her imagination had gone wild dreaming up of all the possibilities his back-story might entail.

At the change of subject, his body tensed. After some time he seemed to be able to relax his muscles, but the suspicion never left his eyes.

"What do you need to know?"

_Trust issues, much?_ Claire thought. It was like he was up on a witness stand or something.

"Well, I don't really _need_ to know anything. I just figured after so many of our…_interesting_ encounters, we should at least get know each other a little bit. Don't you think?"

Looking at his face, Claire saw a decision being made in Derek's head. All of a sudden he was not his usual angry self, but somehow seductive. He didn't dignify her last question with a response. Instead, he leaned toward her, his forearms resting on his thighs, and fixed his green eyes on her own. His voice lowered to something much softer than his usual, harsh tone.

"Okay. What would you _like_ to know?"

She sucked in a breath. Jesus, she was only human. _Be cool, bitch, be cool_. Part of her brain registered that he was manipulating her, taking her off of her guard, but her stomach was doing flips, and she didn't know what to do except to feel her heart squeeze in her chest. For God's-sake, she was like a lovesick puppy. Bringing him here was a mistake.

"Are you from around here?" she finally stammered, going for casual, but probably looking more constipated than anything else.

"Yes. I grew up here. I graduated from Beacon Hills High School a few years back."

"Did you live around here after that?"

"No. I moved to Brooklyn after that."

"Brooklyn?! As in New York City?!" Claire blurted out.

"That's the one."

"Wow. That explains so much."

"Does it?"

"Not really."

He smirked.

"Okay, now you know where I'm from. What else would you like to know?"

"Yeah, um, give me a second," she said as she racked her brain for something to say to him. There were so many questions she wanted answered, but with him looking at her like that she had lost everything. To try to regain thought, Claire looked away from his face and stared at his hands and arms. His arms…

"How did you heal so fast after the other night? You were bleeding so much," she asked, only glancing up at his face after she had finished her question.

"Magic powers," he said as he smiled. He _actually_ smiled, and she felt something inside her snap. It was probably the fakest thing she had ever seen. He was still looking at her like she was some kind of idiot who could be fooled by his stupid charm, and she didn't want to be played by him anymore.

"Actually, you know what?" she said, standing up. "I don't want to know. I think you should leave." She walked to her bedroom door and opened it. She stood to the side to let him through, but Derek didn't move from her desk chair, his façade finally dropped. There were no more emotions on his face except his usual angry eyes.

"Seriously, get out. If you didn't want to my answer questions about you, that's fine. Just tell me that instead of playing off of my feelings. Real dick-move, Derek," she spat at him.

Derek looked down at his lap, his eyebrows knit together, and his mouth opened for a second.

"I'm—," he said, and then abruptly stopped with a huff, and stood up. He walked over to her window, and opened it, before turning back to face her.

"See you around, Claire."

And then he jumped out her window.

"What the hell?" she gasped, running over to her window. Once again, Derek was nowhere in sight.

_What the hell?_

That was all her brain seemed capable of processing at the moment. _What the fucking hell?_


End file.
